


across the table at night

by paravin



Series: just a different kind [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Face Slapping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, but extremely mild/light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Osiris, Crow and Saint-14 put the new war table to good use.
Relationships: The Crow/Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Series: just a different kind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180688
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	across the table at night

**Author's Note:**

> Crow gets railed on the war table, that’s it, that’s the fic

From the quiet moans that greet him as he rounds the corner into the HELM, it’s clear enough what Osiris is walking into. 

Nonetheless, he feigns a frown when he sees the two figures by the war table. “I see you started without me?”

Without the mask, there’s no hiding the guilty panic on Crow’s face but Saint just laughs. His pace slows but he makes no attempt to disentangle himself from where he’s buried to the hilt in Crow’s ass, even as he says in greeting, “We didn’t know if you would be joining us. You’ve been very busy lately.”

It’s somewhere between teasing and accusing, and Osiris rolls his eyes as he crosses the HELM to join them. 

He shucks his robe off, tossing it over Saint’s armor which has been stacked neatly by the wall, and he discards his cowl and helmet before leaning up to give Saint a kiss in greeting. “I told you I would be here.”

“You told us you’d be here an hour ago,” Crow points out with a grin. He’s stripped bare already, flat on his back with his legs slung over Saint’s arms, and Osiris’ gaze lingers on the way his skin seems to glow atop the light of the war table. “We thought we might have to entertain ourselves.”

Saint pushes in a little in demonstration. The movement drags a whimper from Crow, and Osiris eyes them for a moment as he decides whether to join or to spectate. They’re an enjoyable sight, Saint’s big hands curled around Crow’s hips and Crow’s cock already dripping pre-come against his stomach, but after a long day of discussions, Osiris is more than ready for some action.

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to catch up…”

He strokes his fingers down Crow’s inner thigh before pinching sharply at the soft skin, and chuckles when Crow tenses up enough to draw a groan from Saint. 

He runs a hand up Crow’s torso, purposefully avoiding his cock, and gives him a teasing pat on the cheek before gripping his hair tightly. Crow gasps, smiling past a wince, and Osiris shoots Saint a glance as he tugs Crow towards him.

As always when it comes to situations involving Crow and sex, Saint is quick to get the idea. Between the two of them, they arrange Crow until he’s draped across the curved end of the table, his shoulders flat against the surface and his hips held aloft by virtue of Saint’s height alone. 

His head lolls off the edge, the black and white sweep of his hair brushing Osiris’ thighs as he stands beside him, and even upside down, Crow looks up at him with a grin. “I was wondering when you were going to help break this table in.”

Osiris opens his mouth but Saint cuts in before he can speak, “Do not get him started on the Vanguard’s budget priorities.” The lights beneath his chest plates flicker in amusement. “He is just annoyed that Zavala turned down his requisition for a beanbag chair.”

Crow arches an eyebrow. “A beanbag chair?”

“It was not a—” 

Osiris cuts himself off with a huff and glowers at Saint as he works his dick free of his pants. “It was a research stand.”

“Are you sure?” Saint teases. “Because it looked a lot like a beanbag chair. Very squishy.”

He gropes Crow’s ass as if to demonstrate. 

Crow laughs but cranes his neck to kiss the underside of Osiris’ dick by way of apology as he says, with dubious sincerity, “Sorry you didn’t get the research stand you wanted.”

This was not the two-on-one scenario Osiris was hoping for when he made the trek up here and he gives Saint a half-hearted scowl as he tugs on Crow’s hair again.

Crow winces but there’s a pleasing flush to his cheeks when he looks up. Osiris rests a hand against his face, stroking his thumb over the skin in a wordless question, and when Crow nods, eyes bright, he lands a quick slap to his cheek. 

Across the table, Saint adjusts his grip and starts to move again, and Osiris gives Crow one more slap to pry a whine from him. Ideally, he’d pry even more but it’s harder to gauge force at this angle, and so he settles for cupping the heated skin of his cheek as the head of his cock comes to rest against Crow’s mouth. 

Crow’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath but his lips part without hesitation to let Osiris slide home.

“You did well today,” Osiris says as he eases in deeper. He’s learned it’s best to praise Crow when he can’t talk back to deflect it. “Tracing the source of the activity around Neptune was some good work.”

An embarrassed flush spreads down over Crow’s chest, and Osiris shares an amused glance with Saint. It’s good to know that while Crow apparently won’t bat an eyelid at being fucked in the Vanguard’s new headquarters, being complimented on his work still makes him squirm.

“You see?” Saint says to Crow. “I told you that you had good instincts.”

Crow _does_ squirm then, letting out a pleading little noise around Osiris’ cock. There’s nowhere for him to move to, not when he’s filled up at both ends, but he shifts anyway, letting Saint take more of his weight as he pushes down on his cock in a clear request to get back to sex.

It’s Saint who has mercy on him, bracing his hands against the table and pushing in harder even as he says, “So, Osiris, how was your day?”

Osiris laughs. At least they know that Crow likes this — he might balk at praise but he’s always happy with some mild objectification — and Osiris tries to ignore the sensation of Crow swallowing around his cock as he searches for an answer to Saint’s question.

“We’re making progress,” he says eventually. “Slow progress but that’s to be expected. I’m still not getting far with my work on the Darkness or the Hive but at least the Cabal seems to be in hand for now.”

There’s a brief silence, broken only by their breathing and the slick sound of them both fucking into Crow.

“Uh, how was yours?” Osiris says, weakly. 

Daily small-talk isn’t really his area but Saint lights up at the question, beaming as he pistons into Crow with familiar enthusiasm. “Good! There are still the difficulties with Trials but that is a problem for the weekend. My work in the City has been going well.”

Osiris can’t ignore the little twist of guilt at the mention of Trials. Crow’s hands lift to rest on his thighs, not pushing away, just squeezing slightly, and Osiris tries to find an answer that will appease them both. “Perhaps we can join you to oversee a few rounds this weekend, if things continue to go well against the Cabal.”

Saint blinks in surprise and Osiris chooses to focus on the delight in his voice rather than the caution when Saint says, smiling, “You would both be most welcome, of course.”

It’s been a long time since Osiris visited the Lighthouse (in person, at least) but the thought of spending an afternoon there with Saint and Crow is a pleasant one. His mind drifts to the various surfaces which could be christened there too but he’s yanked back to the present when Crow chokes beneath him, pushing firmly against his thighs. 

He gasps for breath when Osiris steps back, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand even as he offers a smile. “Sorry. Not used to this angle.”

Saint’s pace slows in concern and Osiris frowns, already running through alternatives. “We can switch. How about—”

“No,” Crow says firmly. “I’m fine, just needed some air.” He grins, sloppy but eager, as he reaches out to tug Osiris in again. “Unless you’re not enjoying it?”

The faux-innocence in his voice is more than offset by the way his whole body shakes as Saint’s cock works him open but it has the desired effect nonetheless. 

Crow hums around him when Osiris guides his dick past his lips again and as he pushes in deeper with careful thrusts, he can’t help but groan at the sight of his cock moving against the long column of Crow’s throat. 

The whirr of Saint’s motors picks up as he gets closer and Crow’s feet twitch as Saint fucks in long and deep, bottoming out inside him with each stroke. Crow arches beneath them, hands still resting on Osiris’ thighs instead of touching his own dick, and Osiris can’t help but be impressed with Crow’s restraint as he fucks his throat at a punishing pace. 

When he glances to Saint, he finds Saint’s eyes already on him. 

Saint’s voicebox rumbles as he says, ragged and breathless, “Come here.”

Saint can’t pull him in for a kiss, not when his hands are busy supporting Crow’s weight, and so it’s left to Osiris to reach out. The position is awkward, with Crow and the war table stretched out between them, but the plates of Saint’s skull are warm beneath his hands and Saint’s mouth is a familiar comfort against his own. 

He feels Saint come, both in the shudder of Saint’s kiss and in the gasp Crow lets out around his cock, but Osiris kisses him through it as he feels his own release start to build. He’s breathing hard when they break apart, his arousal only increased by the buzz of contentment practically singing from Saint’s systems, but when he reaches down to wrap a hand around Crow’s dick to bring him with them, Saint bats it away. 

“He can manage,” Saint says.

Osiris doesn’t know whether that’s a promise or a challenge but Crow seems to rise to it either way. 

He arches again, writhing even as Saint pushes deep and just holds him there. Osiris watches, biting his lip to try to distract from his own release as Saint cups Crow’s ass and murmurs, “Come on, little bird. You were close even before Osiris arrived; you must be ready by now.”

Crow sobs around Osiris’ cock, canting his hips up in search of friction, but Saint’s grip is immovable. Osiris’ hands close around Crow’s wrists, more a precaution than anything else, but even that restraint makes Crow shiver. He swallows convulsively, legs twitching against Saint’s arms, and Osiris could swear he can feel the vibration of Saint’s voice as he orders, “Come for us.”

It’s an effort for Osiris not to come too at the command but he blinks in amazement when Crow jerks beneath him, coming untouched in messy spurts over his own chest and stomach. 

“Good boy,” Saint murmurs, reaching down to stroke him through the tail end of it, and from the moan Crow lets out at the contact, Osiris is pretty sure Crow would come again if he were able to. 

Crow’s teeth brush Osiris’ length, the stimulation overriding some of his coordination, and Osiris hisses out a breath through his teeth when the hint of pain only brings him closer. He tightens his grip on Crow’s wrists, feeling his pulse thump beneath his fingertips, and he drives in with short, quick snaps of his hips as Crow shudders through the aftershocks. 

He barely manages to pull out in time to come on Crow’s face. 

Thin strings of saliva trail between Crow’s lips as the head of Osiris’ cock as he comes with a groan. It lands in thick splashes from Crow’s jaw down to his collarbone and for once Osiris is satisfied with the Vanguard’s budgeting choices when he sees the way it shimmers on Crow’s skin in the light of the table.

Saint withdraws slowly, lowering Crow’s legs back down as if he’s suddenly made of glass, and Crow leans sideways to rest his head on the table as he blinks up at the ceiling, eyes glazed. 

He’s still panting for air and Osiris barely manages to catch his own breath to say, “Well, I think we can consider the war table broken in now.”

Crow laughs at that. He’s a mess, covered in a mix of Osiris’ come and his own, and as he shifts to stand, Saint’s starts to trickle down his thighs too. 

He doesn’t even make it upright before both Saint and Osiris are there to support him but there’s no heat in his voice when he complains, “You know I can walk, right? Not to damage your egos but you didn’t break me that badly.”

Osiris refrains from pointing out that Crow’s hands are still shaking. 

He settles for guiding them in the direction of the showers as Saint says, “We do not think we broke you. You are a strong little bird. Still too skinny though.” He gives Crow a playful poke in the ribs and gets a little _hmph_ in response. “We are just helping. You’re not the only one in need of a shower.”

From the noise he makes, Crow doesn’t sound entirely convinced but Osiris feels him lean more of his weight on Saint anyway.

“I’ll be right back,” Osiris says, passing Crow off to Saint. At Saint’s narrowed eyes, he clarifies, “No work, I promise. I have some better soap in my locker — the type in the dispensers is terrible. I’ll be there soon.”

He gets a nod from Saint and as the two of them make their way out of the war room, he just catches Crow’s confused question, “Wait, that’s soap?”

They move out of earshot before Osiris can find out what exactly Crow’s been using it for and he shakes his head as he heads over to his locker. His gaze lingers on the war table as he passes and he smirks at the smears of sweat and come marring the previously pristine surface.

He makes a mental note to blame it on the Guardian if Zavala ever asks.


End file.
